


Post Heat

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: Castiel occupies his time with visiting his brother. It’s so nice to see him without the fatigue or stress of knowing he needs to catch a few hours of sleep before his next shift, Castiel spends almost the entire two last days of his leave there. Samandriel is delighted and so are the nurses, who usually only get to see him for a few hours at a time. Castiel comes home from those days feeling refreshed and happy in a way he hasn’t in a long time and he wonders if it’s the feeling of having finished his rut or something else entirely. He missed his brother.But today’s shift brings back the feeling of dread. Though Castiel did not technically do anything wrong, he can’t help but feel guilty as he makes his way by bus to the hotel.Okay. He maybe did something wrong. He could not pretend that helping Dean was solely for his safety and Castiel’s peace of mind.





	Post Heat

**Author's Note:**

> *crashes into your house like the Kool Aid man*  
> HELLO!
> 
> ummmmmmmmm yeah this is a huge my bad. But don't worry this isn't the end and I am almost done and I will do my best to post the end very soon. Only, you know, about a year later lol. My mental health took a real dive after finishing that trail. Can't say I've been in the best spot the past few months. But hey, still here, still kickin', and figured if anyone still cared about this story, the least I could do is finish it!! ANYWHO probably my last foray into fanfiction seeing as everything lowkey sucks so hope you enjoy!

JULY 1ST

Though his rut is over, Castiel takes the two days off allotted to him anyway. He’s exhausted and despite the fact that the symptoms have passed, Castiel still feels… _off_. He itches to go back to the hotel, to storm into Dean’s room and cradles him in his arms, but he knows from Sam that Mr. Smith is doing much better, that his heat was winding down yesterday and that he is resting comfortably in his room between residual bouts. 

Castiel occupies his time with visiting his brother. It’s so nice to see him without the fatigue or stress of knowing he needs to catch a few hours of sleep before his next shift, Castiel spends almost the entire two last days of his leave there. Samandriel is delighted and so are the nurses, who usually only get to see him for a few hours at a time. Castiel comes home from those days feeling refreshed and happy in a way he hasn’t in a long time and he wonders if it’s the feeling of having finished his rut or something else entirely. He missed his brother.

But today’s shift brings back the feeling of dread. Though Castiel did not technically do anything wrong, he can’t help but feel guilty as he makes his way by bus to the hotel. 

Okay. He maybe did something wrong. He could not pretend that helping Dean was solely for his safety and Castiel’s peace of mind. 

Still, he justifies, as he tugs the doors to the lobby open, it didn’t feel wrong. Even now, as he thinks about the mortifying circumstances of that _receptacle_ and Dean’s heat, Castiel has a hard time being anything but grateful that it was he who found Dean, that he had the presence of mind to call Dr. Wesson, that Dr. Wesson had even shown up at all. 

“Hello, Anna!” Castiel calls, coming up to an empty reception area. Anna is showing a new employee how to work the phone console. Her gaze snaps up to Castiel’s.

“Castiel!” she seems surprised.

“Yes, hello! I have returned from my leave,” Castiel replies, smiling. The hotel was not an awful place. The smell of it had somehow become associated to Mr. Smith in his mind so despite everything, Castiel cannot find it in him to be bitter. Besides, Anna is a friend.

“Oh, um,” she says and an odd expression forming on her face. “Has… Are you sure you’re scheduled tonight, Castiel?” Anna frowns, biting her lip. Castiel scoffs.

“Well, it’s Sunday night, the same shift I’ve been scheduled for about a decade,” Castiel says, chuckling a little. 

“No. Um,” Anna’s eyes widen. “I think maybe you should go see Crowley.”

“What?” Castiel tilts his head in confusion. “Crowley is still in his office?”

Anna just nods and opens the door to the back office for Castiel. Castiel frowns at her and enters, schooling his expression into that of polite confusion.

Crowley is _smirking_.

Alright, Castiel thinks as his heart rate ratchets up and his breathing shallows. Alright, so Crowley knows. 

How much does he know?

Enough to be smirking. So probably a lot. 

Shit. _Shit!_

Castiel should feel guilty. He knows. He went into a guest’s room. He brought a sex toy. But… God he can’t feel the guilt. He can feel the odd sense of longing, the itch under his skin that’s been there since he left Mr. Smith in that room with Dr. Wesson. He can feel the panic, the thoughts of how he will manage to support his brother through this quickly taking over. But, nope. No guilt.

In fact, there’s this weird sense of calm. 

“I think you know why you’re here,” Crowley says, and Castiel wants to roll his eyes. He wants to roll his entire body at this stupid, small man who probably thinks his little sentence is some sort of catchphrase, some kind of poetic repetition. 

“Yes,” Castiel says, but it comes out as half a growl.

“Really?” Crowley asks, and Castiel fights a smirk at the way Crowley’s eyes widen a little at Castiel’s aggression.

God, can’t he clean out his locker already? 

“I’m sure there are many reasons, but I assume you mean to reprimand me for aiding a client of this hotel,” Castiel rattles off in a bored voice. He keeps his expression neutral. It’s too late for him anyway. No point in playing into Crowley’s sick game.

“ _Aiding_ ,” Crowley repeats, laughing a little. His accent is stupid. As is his smarmy little rat face. Castiel grits his teeth. “More like assault! Thank goodness the guest is no longer staying at the hotel…”

Castiel’s head whips up from where he’d been staring at the bland carpet. 

“But I saw and heard enough from eye witness accounts to know what you did was much more than “aiding”. The video tapes all but show you in the thick of it!”

Crowley is talking but Castiel’s ears are rushing. Sam would have told him. Castiel had been busy at the centre but he’d called yesterday and Dr. Wesson hadn’t mentioned… _Fuck it._

“You said he is no longer a guest?” Castiel interrupts. Crowley glares at him.

“That is none of your concern, Castiel, as you are no longer an employee of this hotel,” he says shortly. Castiel resists the almost overwhelming urge to roll his eyes, _again_.

“Fine,” Castiel says coldly. “Should I get my things?” 

“I’ve taken the liberty of cleaning out your locker. You are no longer welcome at this property,” Crowley replies smoothly. Castiel resists the urge to bare his teeth again.

“Great, I assume I will be receiving my paycheque by mail then?” he asks, gathering up a box to which Crowley had gestured.

“Yes,” Crowley says. “And good luck getting yourself another one in any hotel around,” he adds, just loud enough for Castiel to hear.

His heart is pounding and he knows he is sweating, but he refuses to give Crowley the satisfaction of a whiff of fear in his scent. Instead, Castiel focuses on the indignant rage he feels in his veins as he takes his leave. Not without slamming the door, however. _Well, we’re in it now,_ he thinks.

Castiel is so worked up that he barely hears Anna say goodbye. He’s incensed. He’s enraged. He’s...

Fired.

The fight drains out of him as he pushes open the door one last time. He doubts he will return to the mediocre inn, but there is still a small part of him that is sad. Ten years of service and despite it all, there were some good times. He’s mostly kept to himself, the details of his personal life always deemed not relevant to his coworkers. But they’d always been funny and nice. And Charlie… He wishes he could have said goodbye, but it was better this way. 

Castiel doesn’t even notice when he gets to the end of the street, still lost in thought about what his next move should be. Should he call the centre, let them know he won’t be able to make payments? How did governmental programs work? Were there even any that would help? He shakes his head, pausing to look back and forth before crossing. 

Unbidden, the image of Mr. Smith pops into his mind. 

He wishes he could call his former favourite guest right now. Or at least Sam. Just thinking about Mr. Smith seems to conjure up his smell, post-Heat and curling around his nostrils like a warm hug… Wait.

“Mr. Smith!”

Castiel feels his cheeks heat at the memories that flood his brain at the sight of the tousled man in front of him.

Gone is the hair slicked back, tight suit wearing powerful executive. But before Castiel still stands the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on. Mr. Smith doesn’t really look like Mr. Smith anymore. In fact, he looks like, well, _Dean_. His short hair looks soft and freshly washed, no gel or product glistening in the moonlight. His green eyes are crinkled around an easy smile and he’s wearing a pair of pale, worn out jeans and a grey henley under a flannel shirt. And his smell… God, his _smell_.

“Hey there handsome,” Mr. Smith says, but Castiel is having a hard time processing this new development. He looks and smells _wonderful_.

“W-What are you doing here? Out?” Castiel blurts. He winces. Ok, Mr. Smith is an omega and yes, he smells deliciously sated and downright sinful. Still, Castiel did not mean for that to sound so… Possessive.

“Oh! Well,” Mr. Smith rubs his neck, smiling at the ground. “Uh, heat’s over.” He glances up and seems to take in Castiel’s dilated pupils. He smirks. “Mostly.”

Castiel reddens further, but can’t find any words yet.

“What about you? I thought maybe I’d finally see you… Sam told me you usually only go for…” Mr. Smith trails off, his turn to blush. “Nevermind.”

“So much for doctor-patient confidentiality…” Castiel mutters.

“No! He didn’t… I think he maybe thought it didn’t register at the time. I was, uh, kind of out of it. S’all a little blurry,” Mr. Smith -- _Dean_ \-- looks even more embarrassed, but forces himself to look up when he finishes his thought. “Thank you, Castiel.”

God, the way his tongue touches the bottom of his teeth at the end of Castiel’s name… He could listen to Mr. Smith read the dictionary. He is so completely ruined. How unfortunate that they won’t be seeing each other ever again.

“It was nothing. It’s fine,” Castiel says, shifting the box’s weight to wave a hand at the man in front of him. _Just my entire life plan and financial stability. Whatever._

Dean’s eyes drop to the box in Castiel’s hands, then flit back up to Castiel’s breast pocket, where his nametag should have been. He narrows his eyes.

“No _fucking_ way. No way. No way!” 

Okay, so Mr. Smith is not wearing any blockers and the suppressants seems to have also made their way out of his system because Castiel is hit with a wave of different scents. Most of all, his nose itches with the smell of _angryhatekill_.

“What is it,” Castiel says, dropping the box of his meager possessions onto a nearby flowerbed. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong!?” Mr. Smith steps closer. “You tell me, Cas.” When Castiel takes a tiny step back, silent, Mr. Smith’s eyes narrow to slits and he approaches further. “He fired you, didn’t he? I’ll…. I’ll kill him! I’ll convince him to take you back or I’ll kill him… Cas, this is my fault. I’m so sorry.”

Mr. Smith is babbling now, and the change from anger to sadness to guilt is almost too fast to process. Castiel manages to stop him from turning on his heels and, well, who knows? Simultaneously kill and beg Crowley? Anyway, the poor man has gotten it all wrong.

“No, no,” Castiel puts his hands on Mr. Smith’s shoulders, trying to calm him. “It’s not your fault… I’m the one who should be apologizing for… for…” He can’t say it. He can’t even talk about the intimate moments they spent together. He doesn’t want to even pretend it was wrong or bad or not every single thing he has ever wanted and more.

“For saving me? For keeping me safe?” Mr. Smith looks fierce now as he stares into Castiel’s eyes. “For making me feel… precious.” His last word is whispered, and his closes his eyes for a moment.

Castiel is floored. He is still reeling from the apparent loss of his job and now… Now…

Mr. Smith straightens up, frowns, and holds out his hand, taking a step back to make room between them.

“Hi, I’m Dean. I just lost my job cos my boss is a sexist asshole. I don’t have a place to live, but I can probably swing a burger?”

Cas tilts his head.

Mr. Smith rolls his eyes and huffs, nodding down at his outstretched hand. Castiel slowly holds out his own and shakes his.

“You’re not… angry at me?” Castiel asks uncertainly, though Mr. Smith’s scent seems to have leveled out. He is smiling slightly, even, and Castiel once again is unsure how to react.

“What? Why would I be angry at you?”

“For…” Cas wrings his hands. He knows he smells awful, distress and guilt bleeding into his scent. “Mr. Smith, I took advantage of you. I should have…”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I told you my last name. My name is _Dean_.”

“I’m serious, I--”

“Look, Cas. I just went through a really rough time, and someone I didn’t know that well helped me through it. And since I’m alive, and not mated to a random person I don’t know or sold into some omega trafficking ring, I would really like to take that person on a date. To thank them. Also because you know what? They’re fucking hot.” Dean hesitates. “And you smell like home.” He adds quietly.

Cas stares at Dean, eyes wide. Dean stands, arms folded and glaring back, gaze steady and strong. Cas’ heart swells at the sight of this beautiful, defiant omega. _Fuck it_. Cas smiles tentatively. Dean grins.

“Hi,” he says again. “My name’s Dean.”

Cas’ smile widens.

“Hello, Dean.”

“So, you free right now? Because I just have this crazy feeling that we might have some things in common." They start walking, Dean grabbing Castiel's box under one arm and draping the other over his shoulders. "Is your boss a huge jerk too? Just a hunch…”


End file.
